


Easy Touch

by dizzzylu



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12768810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: Once upon a time, when Jamie was very drunk and had no inhibitions left to cling to, he let it slip that he had a thing for Tyler's hands.





	Easy Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is all thanks to a handful of Twitter pals and Tyler's inability to NOT TOUCH HIS DAMN FACE IN POSTGAME INTERVIEWS. Not beta'd; mistakes (or general awfulness) are my own.

Jamie wouldn't necessarily describe Tyler as lazy in bed — and _never_ to his face — but it is true Tyler would rather be manhandled than doing the manhandling. Not that it's a hardship, to put Tyler right where Jamie wants him, to keep him there with a firm squeeze of Tyler's wrists. And it just makes the times Tyler does take charge more…extra. 

Like tonight, coming off of the high of a hat trick, Tyler having trouble hiding his swagger from the press. Even with all the congratulations coming his way, from both reporters and teammates, Tyler keeps nudging at Jamie, biting his lip, arching his eyebrows and flashing his dumb sly smile. There's no way in the world anyone is blind enough to see what he's trying to say, but Jamie's not going to stop him, either. He's working hard to enjoy the little wins just as much as the big ones. 

So they shower off the sweat and do their press, and the car ride home is loud music and Tyler singing along at the top of his lungs. Tyler's mood is so contagious, Jamie can't resist tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, head bobbing to the beat, smiling wide and feeling loose.

They get home to a chorus of jingling dog tags and a clatter of claws, but Tyler uses his bag to keep them back and pushes Jamie up against the closed front door, angling in for a kiss. It's confident and demanding and dirty all at once, Tyler licking in and in, nipping at Jamie's mouth. His hands pin Jamie in place, one on his cheek, the other over his ribs, firm and hot and possessive. It's all Jamie can do to ride it out, palms pressed flat against the door to steady himself. He shivers and thinks, _Yes, fuck, yes_.

Tyler pulls away with a growl and a smile, dragging his teeth along Jamie's jaw. "You get naked," he says. "I'll let out the boys." He grabs his bag and winks, leaving no room for argument. Not that Jamie would.

Jamie gives himself a second to breathe, to adjust himself in his pants, and heads for the bedroom. He takes his time stripping out of his clothes, making sure the suit is hung up and wrinkle-free, the tie back in its spot. Socks and underwear end up in a pile somewhere along the way, forgotten when cool air washes over Jamie's heated skin. That's when he freezes, staring at the bed trying to decide how he should arrange himself.

Tyler doesn't give him a chance, grinding out, "On your back," as he swans into the room. He makes a beeline for the closet, which means he misses Jamie's shudder; Jamie's grateful for it.

After throwing off the comforter, Jamie sprawls out on the bed, hand on his cock to give himself some relief. It's just a few lazy strokes, not tight enough for it to go anywhere, but it feels good and it's something to do while he waits. 

Tyler has other ideas, emerging from the closet to bark out, "Stop." He's out of his suit and boxers, but he still has the shirt on, unbuttoned and gaping enough for Jamie to see a nipple and the edge of the Stanley Cup tattoo. His dick too, flushed red and bobbing with each step. Jamie should find it ridiculous probably, but it's not like Tyler's ashamed of nudity. It's more that putting on a show is coded into his DNA, and Jamie sure does like to watch, so. It works for the both of them. 

Jamie lets go of himself and drops his hands to his sides, trying not to squirm under Tyler's careful scrutiny. It isn't easy, no matter how many times Tyler says he likes how thick Jamie is. The urge to cover up simmers under Jamie's skin, until Tyler climbs onto the bed, the shirt cuffs loose around his wrists. He straddles Jamie's chest, knees tucked up close to Jamie's armpits, and settles his weight. the shirt open enough to draw Jamie's attention up along Tyler's torso to his face. Tyler's eyes are dark and intent, his hair soft and curly. Jamie lets himself sink into the mattress and drink it up.

"One sec," Tyler says, leaning forward. He uses one hand to lift up Jamie. With the other, he stuffs an extra pillow under Jamie's shoulders. Once Jamie is comfortable again, Tyler wraps a hand around his own dick to give it a couple of strokes. "Is the angle okay?"

Jamie swallows, watching the tendons in Tyler's wrist flex and shift. "Uh, yeah, I'm—" he licks his lips. "You're good."

Tyler smile turns filthy. "Perfect. Wanna hand me the lube?"

Once upon a time, when Jamie was very drunk and had no inhibitions left to cling to, he let it slip that he had a thing for Tyler's hands. Jordie called it a fetish and promptly shut down the conversation. But Tyler, also drunk, somehow filed away the nugget for future use. Devastation might be a more accurate word. It doesn't help that it plays into Tyler's exhibitionst kink, but to his credit, he doesn't use this particular weapon too often. And if Jamie were a bigger man, if he didn't have Tyler sitting on top of his chest, drizzling lube into his hand and making a show of squelching it around to warm it up, Jamie would admit he's been jonesing for a hit. An excuse to watch Tyler's hands work and not be embarrassed about it? Jamie's never going to turn that down.

So he settles in, hands at his sides, and lets Tyler run the show.

For someone who doesn't believe in patience or denying himself, Tyler does an amazing job of drawing out a hand job, using slow, measured strokes to make everything nice and wet, thumbing at the slit to smear around the precome. He toys with the head on the upstroke and squeezes on the down stroke, hissing out a breath every time he bumps against his balls. Once he finds a pace he likes, he eases up, using just his thumb and forefinger to fuck into. Jamie's never understood how that feels good, but Tyler's panting a little, a sheen of sweat starting to appear over his flushed chest and at his temples. With his free hand, Tyler drags his nails over his thigh, raising thick red lines that disappear between one blink and the next. That's when he starts making noises, little groans and hisses, the occasional grunt when he slides over a sensitive spot. 

All of that fades into the background for Jamie as he zeros in on Tyler's hands. From blunt fingernails to his knobby knuckles, the veins thrown into harsh relief. Jamie's even mesmerized by the dumb tattoos around his wrist, how they weave in and out of sight through the shirt cuff. Jamie watches it all with rapt attention, biting his lip to hold back a whine. It's a sweet kind of agony, to have Tyler's hand right there, yet thoroughly out of reach. Jamie can't get enough.

Tyler knows it too, skimming his free hand up his thigh to his stomach, over his abs and up to his nipples. He teases them with little flicks and light pinches, nothing at all like what he asks Jamie to do to them, but it draws Jamie's attention to thick, nimble fingers. Distracts him from the shiny, slick flash mere inches away.

"Fuck," Tyler hisses, rising up on his knees to give his hips room to move. He has a firm grip on his dick now, something tight to fuck into, and he grunts on each thrust, sounding dirty and amused all at the same time. At one point, he shoves forward too hard and his dick bumps against Jamie's gaping mouth. He darts out his tongue, chasing the taste, and Tyler curses again, braces a hand on the wall and leans in. He's still not close enough for Jamie to suck him, but the scent is there, in Jamie's nose and all around him. He has a fleeting thought that he could come like this, if only he could get a hand on himself. His hips buck up anyway, into empty air, and Tyler chuckles low in his throat, his grin sharp.

"You want it so bad," he gasps, eyes dark and wanting. Jamie gets caught in them, pinned to the bed, his mouth open and his hands useless. 

"Yeah, Ty," Jamie rasps, licking his lips. "You know I do."

"Gonna fuck you with my fingers, after," Tyler pants, getting close. "Gonna get you nice and hard and then ride you until I come again. Sound good?" 

Jamie almost swallows his tongue. "I thought this was supposed to be hat trick sex," he chokes out. His eyes slam shut and he tries to drag up Yankees stats or dirty jock straps, whatever it takes to get himself under control. It doesn't work so well, with Tyler's weight on him, his powerful thighs squeezing Jamie's ribs. The hint of salt and sweat and lube on his tongue. 

Tyler slurs out, "We're doing what I want, right?" Jamie can't argue against that.

The wet sound of lube on skin gets louder and Tyler's rhythm speeds up as his head falls back. Jamie almost gets lost staring at the graceful arch of Tyler's throat, the flicker of his tongue over his lip. Tyler's free hand sinks into Jamie's hair, fisting it, and Jamie shudders, gaze dropping enough for him to notice Tyler doing that little squeeze-and-twist move he likes most. Jamie knows what that means; tips up his face and licks his lips again, ready.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Tyler spits out. He drops his chin to his chest and tightens his fingers, hips all but shoving forward. Jamie's so captivated by Tyler's shiny fingers, he doesn't notice his head being moved until Tyler's come streaks over his chin and lips, a little on his cheek. He licks at what he can reach, but Tyler's thumb gets in the way to smear everything into Jamie's goatee. Jamie should probably be more disgusted, but the pressure of Tyler's warm fingers makes him groan. It's all Jamie can do to not angle his face into it. 

Tyler blinks down at him, smiling and breathless, his hair a damp, curly mess. He looks an exhausted mix of happy and amused. "Hope you enjoyed the show, Chubbs." he says, thumbing at Jamie's lower lip. "You have some work to do."

Jamie bites Tyler's thumb and grins.


End file.
